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Hero Worship
Different generations, different wars, same tragedies
Hero Worship
‘Have a beer granddad’
‘You know I don’t drink Martin, why offer me ale lad?’
‘Because I’m celebrating granddad…..’
I cut him off abruptly feeling annoyed ‘It was yer eighteenth last week Martin, surely you’ve done enough celebrating by now? ‘
I could see he had drunk a bit although he wasn’t drunk just excited.
‘Granddad I’ve joined the army, I’ve been accepted and I go next Monday and I’m joining your old mob, too.’
His face was lit up like a beacon he was so pleased with himself, I felt a surge of apprehension. Martin had always hero worshipped me though god alone knows why. I did nothing special in my time, just a couple of minor wars and peacekeeping operations.
‘That’s grand Martin’ I said trying to sound enthusiastic, ‘what do your parents think?’
He waved his half consumed six pack around vaguely ‘I haven’t told ‘em yet granddad I was keeping it as a surprise.’
‘You mean you want me to tell ’em for you, yer little bugger.’
He blushed looking embarrassed ‘they’d take it better from you Granddad.’
‘Yes Martin but I’m not going to, OK? The army will throw many challenges at you lad, you’ve got to learn to deal with your own shit’ he nodded he knew I was right.
‘OK Granddad I’ll do it tonight’ he changed the subject abruptly ‘grandma says that you used to really like a drink when you were in Malaya Granddad, she said you liked the Tiger beer best. She said when you came back from Borneo you’d changed. ‘
‘I just got fed up with drinking’ I lied ‘that’s all.’
‘So why do you never say anything about what you did in Borneo granddad? Why do you always say that silly rhyme “It was long ago and far away and better told on another day?”
I sighed feeling guilty for not being honest with him. Now that he’d joined up it might be as well he knew the truth though it seared my soul even to think of it. There would certainly be a lesson for him in my history.
He came and put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Granddad I’m sorry’ he said ‘I don’t want to upset you but all this mystery is killing me.’
‘Sit down Martin’ says I ‘It‘s time you were told. It might stand you in good stead one day.’
He took the chair opposite the beer now forgotten; all his attention was on me. How much should I tell? I decided he should know the whole story then there’d be no more secrets between us.
‘Before we went to Borneo Martin we were sent to Brunei to a town called Kuala Belait, there’d been a spot of bother you see. We took over a school and an old Post Office as a patrol base. We did five days of patrols followed by one day off.’ I drew a deep breath as the pain in my heart worsened and I stopped talking.
Martin pushed me impatiently ‘what happened Granddad? Please tell.’
‘Beer was rationed to two cans a day when it was available. I looked forward to mine as much as the next man.’ One day, on my day off, a local chap came around selling arrack, a locally distilled spirit. It tastes like the wrath of god and is as powerful, too.’ I blurted, wanting to get it over with now ‘I bought a bottle and that night I sneaked away to the far end of the compound and drank it. Next day I couldn’t be aroused for my patrol. I woke up with the medical officer standing over me not knowing where I was.’
Martin looked mystified ‘we all get pissed and do daft things granddad’ he said a big ‘so what?’ in his voice.
I help up my hand to stop him going any further. He could see it was difficult for me and had the good sense to hold his peace. ‘You see Martin I was the patrol’s signaller, the radio sets in those days were temperamental things and needed specialist know-how. My mate ‘Jonno’ Johnson had to give up his day off to cover for me. The doctor had assessed me and diagnosed mild alcoholic poisoning. Later I was sent into the radio room because they were having difficulty raising the patrol. I did my best to no avail so a search patrol was organised.
About two in the afternoon they came back in with the original patrol. There was something wrapped in a mosquito net and tied to a pole being carried between four men.’
‘Like a body you mean? That’s awful granddad couldn’t they…..’
‘No Martin, it’s the only way to get a body out of the jungle. They tie hands and feet to a bamboo pole then tie up the head. Fastening the guy’s belt around the pole stops him sagging like an animal. It’s not dignified but it’s the best that can be done in the circumstances.’ My throat constricted and tears started rolling down my cheeks now but I was past caring.
‘It was Johnson, wasn’t it granddad?’
I nodded unable to speak. They had hit an ambush and the first shot had gone right through poor Johnson’s chest and smashed the radio on is back.
‘That should have been me on that pole Martin not Jonno. I’d let him down, I’d let my mates down and I’d let myself down. I swore I’d never touch a drink again Martin and I never have or ever will.’
Martin was stone cold sober now ‘what happened to Johnson Granddad and did you get in a lot of trouble?’
We buried him out there, we did in those days. The one fortunate thing, if you can call it that, was that Jonno had been an orphan, he had no family to weep for him, poor lad, though god knows I wept enough. My company commander didn’t charge me I just lost my next four days off. He could see I was suffering a far worse punishment than the army could inflict on me. The lads were sympathetic, too, great lads all of ‘em, salt of the earth.’
‘I’ll learn that lesson granddad’ he told me a sincere look on his young face ‘I’ll never let my mates down. Never’ he said it with such passion it scared me.
Martin’s back from Afghanistan now he’s just is a few feet away in the nave of the church where he was baptised. His coffin’s draped with the Union flag. The brave silly boy gave up his day off to replace one of his mates on patrol because the lad was ill. He saved his mates in an ambush that day although it cost him his life. They say they’re giving him the Military Cross.
Just before I collapsed I saw Jonno in his Olive Greens standing by the coffin ’it’s OK now Russell’ he said smiling at me ‘he’s with me. I’ll look after him for you mate.’
I’m in hospital now with wires and monitors all over me they say I had a serious heart attack but that I’ll make a full recovery. I don’t want to recover; I just want to join my hero.
Copyright © J A Milligan 2017
Hero Worship
‘Have a beer granddad’
‘You know I don’t drink Martin, why offer me ale lad?’
‘Because I’m celebrating granddad…..’
I cut him off abruptly feeling annoyed ‘It was yer eighteenth last week Martin, surely you’ve done enough celebrating by now? ‘
I could see he had drunk a bit although he wasn’t drunk just excited.
‘Granddad I’ve joined the army, I’ve been accepted and I go next Monday and I’m joining your old mob, too.’
His face was lit up like a beacon he was so pleased with himself, I felt a surge of apprehension. Martin had always hero worshipped me though god alone knows why. I did nothing special in my time, just a couple of minor wars and peacekeeping operations.
‘That’s grand Martin’ I said trying to sound enthusiastic, ‘what do your parents think?’
He waved his half consumed six pack around vaguely ‘I haven’t told ‘em yet granddad I was keeping it as a surprise.’
‘You mean you want me to tell ’em for you, yer little bugger.’
He blushed looking embarrassed ‘they’d take it better from you Granddad.’
‘Yes Martin but I’m not going to, OK? The army will throw many challenges at you lad, you’ve got to learn to deal with your own shit’ he nodded he knew I was right.
‘OK Granddad I’ll do it tonight’ he changed the subject abruptly ‘grandma says that you used to really like a drink when you were in Malaya Granddad, she said you liked the Tiger beer best. She said when you came back from Borneo you’d changed. ‘
‘I just got fed up with drinking’ I lied ‘that’s all.’
‘So why do you never say anything about what you did in Borneo granddad? Why do you always say that silly rhyme “It was long ago and far away and better told on another day?”
I sighed feeling guilty for not being honest with him. Now that he’d joined up it might be as well he knew the truth though it seared my soul even to think of it. There would certainly be a lesson for him in my history.
He came and put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Granddad I’m sorry’ he said ‘I don’t want to upset you but all this mystery is killing me.’
‘Sit down Martin’ says I ‘It‘s time you were told. It might stand you in good stead one day.’
He took the chair opposite the beer now forgotten; all his attention was on me. How much should I tell? I decided he should know the whole story then there’d be no more secrets between us.
‘Before we went to Borneo Martin we were sent to Brunei to a town called Kuala Belait, there’d been a spot of bother you see. We took over a school and an old Post Office as a patrol base. We did five days of patrols followed by one day off.’ I drew a deep breath as the pain in my heart worsened and I stopped talking.
Martin pushed me impatiently ‘what happened Granddad? Please tell.’
‘Beer was rationed to two cans a day when it was available. I looked forward to mine as much as the next man.’ One day, on my day off, a local chap came around selling arrack, a locally distilled spirit. It tastes like the wrath of god and is as powerful, too.’ I blurted, wanting to get it over with now ‘I bought a bottle and that night I sneaked away to the far end of the compound and drank it. Next day I couldn’t be aroused for my patrol. I woke up with the medical officer standing over me not knowing where I was.’
Martin looked mystified ‘we all get pissed and do daft things granddad’ he said a big ‘so what?’ in his voice.
I help up my hand to stop him going any further. He could see it was difficult for me and had the good sense to hold his peace. ‘You see Martin I was the patrol’s signaller, the radio sets in those days were temperamental things and needed specialist know-how. My mate ‘Jonno’ Johnson had to give up his day off to cover for me. The doctor had assessed me and diagnosed mild alcoholic poisoning. Later I was sent into the radio room because they were having difficulty raising the patrol. I did my best to no avail so a search patrol was organised.
About two in the afternoon they came back in with the original patrol. There was something wrapped in a mosquito net and tied to a pole being carried between four men.’
‘Like a body you mean? That’s awful granddad couldn’t they…..’
‘No Martin, it’s the only way to get a body out of the jungle. They tie hands and feet to a bamboo pole then tie up the head. Fastening the guy’s belt around the pole stops him sagging like an animal. It’s not dignified but it’s the best that can be done in the circumstances.’ My throat constricted and tears started rolling down my cheeks now but I was past caring.
‘It was Johnson, wasn’t it granddad?’
I nodded unable to speak. They had hit an ambush and the first shot had gone right through poor Johnson’s chest and smashed the radio on is back.
‘That should have been me on that pole Martin not Jonno. I’d let him down, I’d let my mates down and I’d let myself down. I swore I’d never touch a drink again Martin and I never have or ever will.’
Martin was stone cold sober now ‘what happened to Johnson Granddad and did you get in a lot of trouble?’
We buried him out there, we did in those days. The one fortunate thing, if you can call it that, was that Jonno had been an orphan, he had no family to weep for him, poor lad, though god knows I wept enough. My company commander didn’t charge me I just lost my next four days off. He could see I was suffering a far worse punishment than the army could inflict on me. The lads were sympathetic, too, great lads all of ‘em, salt of the earth.’
‘I’ll learn that lesson granddad’ he told me a sincere look on his young face ‘I’ll never let my mates down. Never’ he said it with such passion it scared me.
Martin’s back from Afghanistan now he’s just is a few feet away in the nave of the church where he was baptised. His coffin’s draped with the Union flag. The brave silly boy gave up his day off to replace one of his mates on patrol because the lad was ill. He saved his mates in an ambush that day although it cost him his life. They say they’re giving him the Military Cross.
Just before I collapsed I saw Jonno in his Olive Greens standing by the coffin ’it’s OK now Russell’ he said smiling at me ‘he’s with me. I’ll look after him for you mate.’
I’m in hospital now with wires and monitors all over me they say I had a serious heart attack but that I’ll make a full recovery. I don’t want to recover; I just want to join my hero.
Copyright © J A Milligan 2017
Published 21st Feb 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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5th Mar 2017 8:11pm
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